


Eitr

by Lintoro



Category: Norse Religion & Lore, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-06 10:37:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18849352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lintoro/pseuds/Lintoro
Summary: An entirely straightforward account of travelling through space-time.(AKA in which a fic writer tries to let go.)





	Eitr

This isn't your Asgard, but it will do for now.  
  
It's unlike your home in all the ways that matter, but it's beautiful in its own way. Its residents are hopeful, still shaken but dreaming of a peace that will last a lifetime. No more war. No more destruction. No more sacrifices.  
  
You have no intention of dispelling their illusions.  
  
You dwell there for quite a while, in the guise of a woman in honour of the realm's ruler, managing to maintain a low profile for far longer than usual. Your games occupy your time pleasantly enough, but inevitably, you tire of your sport. You don't belong here, and don't particularly care to make it yours.  
  
You're starting to suspect you're never going to find another place to call home. Good thing you aren't looking for one.

 

* * *

  
He isn't your Thor, but he will do for now.  
  
You took for granted he would suspect treachery, but his face lights up sunshine bright the moment you take a shape he would recognize. He doesn't pose a single question before he throws his arms around you, clinging to you like he fears you will turn to smoke, whispering your name like a prayer.  
  
Loneliness does funny things even to gods.  
  
Among all the _Lokis,_ a single _brother_ slips out at the most awkward time possible. You smile through it and keep to your pace. You didn't come here to judge, not when he is giving you warmth and company and the means to shut out all but the present moment.  
  
You don't linger once he falls asleep. Spite can be a joy, but the blissful smile on his face inspires no cruelty in you. Let him have his transient dream.  
  
After all, you enjoyed yours.

 

* * *

  
  
This isn't your Asgard, either, but it will do for now.  
  
Likewise, this isn't the Heimdall you know, and you dare say you like him better for it. While his expression hardens when you allow your face to change and your hair to turn black, even at his coolest he never stoops to insulting you.  
  
You spent considerably more of your stay with him than you ever intended. His company isn't exactly thrilling, but after so much time spent running away, you find his stillness strangely soothing. Sometimes numbness can be an anodyne.  
  
As the months pass by, he tells you more and more of all the wonders of the Nine Worlds he has witnessed, both past and present. You think he's trying to impart wisdom, and know he's being kind. Responsible. Almost paternal.  
  
And yet, while he turns his head away, he doesn't do anything to stop you from claiming another kiss.  
  
You might have stayed longer, but by then you've decided on your next pastime. So it goes. You can always return when you please.  
  
You probably won't. But there's always the next world.

 

* * *

  
  
He isn't your Thor, either, but he too will do.  
  
He is younger than when you last met him, boisterous, more foolhardy. He calls you _brother_ like your name is something to be saved for special occasions, but for all his vigour and affection he never touches you in a way that would render the title inappropriate.  
  
Usually, you would simply make the first move, but for now your thoughts are elsewhere. Where, exactly, was this Asgard's point of no return? If the series of cataclysmic events ahead hadn't torn it asunder, would some other disaster have taken their place? Could it all have been prevented if only Loki of Jotunheim hadn't fallen into the void beyond the Bifrost?  
  
You have all the time you could ever ask for to test it out.  
  
It doesn't take long till one night, Thor responds to your insinuations with a hungry kiss. You laugh, both at his clumsy apologies and the forbidden lust still in his eyes, then take his hand and show him much more than a kiss.

 

* * *

  
  
It's strange to think you like this Heimdall, yours or not.  
  
As you wait for him to armour himself, you swing your legs over the edge of the Bifrost and put together what you have learned so far. It's a challenge. So few things matter in the vortex of time, and this little hobby of yours too is a passing fancy, something that will get swept aside the moment you spot an interesting constellation or recall something else to pursue from centuries past.  
  
You do know for certain this Asgard has many paths to salvation. None eternal, as fate comes to all, but it has countless long and fruitful futures all the same. One can easily nudge the timeline in the correct direction and then wine and dine and fornicate without a single care in the world, before finally lying down on a bed of ashes.  
  
You look down into the frothing mass of water and entertain the possibility of leaping into it. Did you try that already? You can't remember.  
  
Just as you are about to follow your impulse, Heimdall, gilt once more, interrupts you by walking to your side. "What do you see?"  
  
Molten blood. "Stars."  
  
"In the water?" His voice will regain its usual timbre soon enough, but till then he speaks softly, even when in jest.  
  
As you turn to smile at him, you realize you might actually miss him. In other words, you have been here for too long. "You tell me. You see farther than I do."  
  
He takes his time gazing. "All is peaceful in Alfheim."  
  
"And in Nidavellir?"  
  
"All is as usual."  
  
"Jotunheim?"  
  
"Likewise." A pause. "Laufey's forces have been on the move lately, but I haven't yet seen a purpose to it."  
  
Even knowing it's consequence-free, you almost stop yourself from saying what you say next. But then, your tongue has always had a will of its own. "Oh dear. I wonder what my mother is up to now."  
  
Your smile broadens as, after an even longer pause, Heimdall tells you the Queen of Asgard is fast asleep in her bed. Just as well. If he had understood your true meaning, you would have had your first real cause for concern since longer than you can remember.  
  
Yes. It's fortunate. Why would it be anything else?

 

* * *

  
  
The first time you run into your namesake, you find yourself with a knife through your throat.  
  
Honestly? Fair enough. This kind of travel agrees with no-one, and wherever he has just arrived from has treated him even worse. You saw from far off the madness churning inside him. Appearing before him in his likeness was not, in hindsight, your brightest idea to date.  
  
Still. Rude of him to murder his own other self.

 

* * *

  
  
The next seven encounters merit little mention, but the ninth, both earlier and much much later, is different. That's the thing about madness. It ebbs and flows like the tide.  
  
Though Loki is done playing king and conqueror for the time being, his question to you, in all its simplicity, is clearly meant to carry some royal authority. Cute. You're definitely going to start scraping and bowing any minute now.  
  
Still, he's curious. That's good. You like curious people. _Curious_ is practically a by-name of yours.  
  
Your face says nothing to him, but you answer him by shedding your disguise all the same. His eyes linger on your mouth.  
  
You smile. "Let's talk."

 

* * *

  
  
Your ideas regarding a suitable place to chat are predictably unlike, but as his comes with food, you're happy to indulge him.  
  
Even now, you are a little surprised by how readily he followed you to a secluded forest afterwards, wrinkling his nose at the black trunks rising skywards around you. You meant to evoke Jotunheim with your choice of location, forgetting his Jotunheim is nothing like yours.  
  
No matter. He's watching you with well-feigned patience, waiting for you to get to your point. It's obvious he doesn't believe a word of the tale you shared between courses, save perhaps that you're a fellow traveller in space and time. Your only regret is that he hasn't questioned how you do it. The story you've invented is a whopper.  
  
It's fine. It's all fine as long as he listens. And he listens.  
  
And looks at you like you're mad.  
  
Yeah. No kidding.  
  
You laugh at his silence and walk to the stream that flows down to the vale, taking the opportunity to stretch yourself. You feel comfortable in just about any skin, but it feels good to be _you_ again, even as it reminds you of the predicament your real body is in.  
  
"I'm not here to lecture you," you eventually say, no longer seeking out your reflection. "I only wish to tell you something. From one of us to another."  
  
Loki remains still, eerily quiet for someone you saw not all that long ago in a fit of nefarious laughter. No blades, yet. That's something.  
  
"It's great fun acting as lord of the void," you continue, attention back on the stream, "but at some point, it starts treating you like a pebble in the ocean. By the time it has etched out everything but the one or two things that truly matter to you, you're better off settling down and burying that little trinket of yours. Else it will tear your mind to shreds."  
  
You pause, one foot balancing above the water. You have told people of the risks several times before (why wouldn't you have, with nothing to stop you?), but it's been a while since you actually _felt_ them.  
  
You turn your head. Loki has failed to produce the — Tesseract, you believe — to illustrate your point, but the gleam in his eyes almost matches its shine. Perhaps you were wrong about his sanity.  
  
Or not. His words are sane enough. "Why are you telling me this?"  
  
Why, indeed? Even if he remembers your words long enough for them to matter, they withered the moment they left your mouth. If anything, you've made him more resistant to an idea he would have eventually dreamed up himself.  
  
You walk back to him and flash him the grin Thor, your Thor, once said makes you look alarmingly wolfish. "I thought it amusing."  
  
He blinks.  
  
It takes until the last of the stars have awoken, but eventually, he smiles back.  
  
He believes you.  
  
You knew he would. In the end, you all stem from the same poison.

 

* * *

  
  
You don't see him again. You likely do, really, but you don't remember the encounters long enough to press them to mind. Even if he's an aspect of you, he is still another face in a endless sea of time, an offshoot who has taken on a life wholly his own. Your streams don't cross that often.  
  
It's fine. You will make your own ways through the worlds. He will eventually tire of seductive glimpses of potential empires, and might even breathe new life to what you told him. Where he will go then, you can only guess, but he just might make it. Settle down. Seek out love. Find peace.  
  
Lucky bastard.  
  
No matter. Float on, float on. Keep flying. You'll find another distraction soon enough.  
  
You always will, till the breaking of chains.


End file.
